


The Ghost of Willow’s Peak

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now was the time for Harry to bring life back to the wizarding world. Sure, he was an auror, but again he was more. He was a father, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get to meet his first born as soon as he could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of Willow’s Peak

Harry was most displeased with this turn of events. There was an conundrum of mischief that had the ministry in a bind, and all the aurors had been sent off for one purpose or another. They had at least given him the decency to take Ron along, for he doubted anyone else’s presence could have kept him sane. After all, Ginny was going to have the baby at any time, and there he was dragging his hide up Willow’s Peak to take care of a bloody poltergeist. Old Ms. Willow found them ghastly, and at the moment Harry couldn’t quite blame her. He also couldn’t stand her. 

“This is complete bollocks,” said Ron, bringing up the rear. “We requested this time off a month in advance.” 

“You’re not kidding. A child could handle this,” said Harry, charging up the mountain as quickly as he could. With luck he’d be up and down before the break of day and Ginny’s condition won’t have changed without him. It was a long shot, though, and she was less than pleased to see him go. Nevertheless, she had a great deal of understanding for all of the things that he did, and this, too, would pass. All he had to do was tell himself that, and try not to take his frustration out on Ron. 

“If only this mountain weren’t bloody enchanted. I bet we could magic up one of those brilliant revolving steps muggles are so fond of.” 

“You mean escalators?” said Harry, trying to better pace himself. If he went any faster he’d become short of breath, especially in the cold air that whipped about him. “I’d prefer a broom myself. How the bleeding knockers do you know about escalators, anyway? Surely your dad couldn’t have one in his garage?” 

Ron laughed. “No, no. Hermione took me to this crowded muggle shop in Paris once. It was a large shop with many shops. Dad would have found it brilliant.” 

“Really. Personally I never cared for shopping malls,” said Harry, vaguely recalling times he’d been dragged along to shopping malls with the Dursleys. He would be forced to sit outside of each shop as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia purchased whatever Dudley’s stubby little fingers pointed at. Harry’d be lucky if he received a gumdrop, at least until he’d unintentionally made a mannequin make a rude hand gesture to his Uncle. He thought he’d die of cold and starvation in that cupboard after that. They hadn’t taken him out with them so much ever since. 

A comfortable silence fell between them halfway up the slope. As Harry was neither in the mood for chatting, nor complaining, Ron mostly kept to himself a few paces behind. Harry was quite tense, Ginny on the forefront of his mind, without him. She was with the other Weasleys, though. It was at least a comfort that she wasn’t alone, but she ought not to be without him either. For the first time since Hogwarts Harry really had to question his career choice. He was tough, a renowned hero. It was fitting for him, really. But he was more than a hero. He was a soon to be father as well, and yet that aspect of his life didn’t seem to matter to anyone, save for Ron. Ron was going to be the uncle after all. 

“So, what’ll you name him?” 

“What?” said Harry, taken aback by the question. He would have stopped mid-pace had his mind not ironically been on exactly what Ron was taking about. 

“The baby, you git. What’ll you name him?” 

“I-I dunno. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead,” said Harry, really just excited to be a father (and pissed to be an auror) at the moment. 

“This would perhaps be a good time to do so, considering that all we’ve been doing is walking the past few hours. Bloody hell my feet are killing me.” 

“Right awful crap,” Harry murmured. “Couldn’t have given us a place where brooms aren’t prohibited, could they?” 

“The ministry’s getting real paranoid about being spotted by muggles lately. You-Know-Who left quite a mess for us behind.” 

“For goodness sakes, Ron. Voldemort is dead. It wouldn’t kill you to say his name now.” He knew it was hopeless when Ron flinched at the name. He supposed old habits died hard, but it was still annoying. It was a terrible battle and there were many losses, but Voldemort was gone. For good this time. That in itself was a step toward recovery. There was no point in fearing that which was no more. 

Though he had to admit, in a way Voldemort was still with them, and would be forever. He lived on in the deaths of their friends and family: Harry’s parents, Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Moody, Dobby. It was a frightfully long list, and no matter how many years went by, the ache never seemed to dull. If nothing else, though, Harry wouldn’t allow Voldemort to consume him in any other way than the great sadness he had caused, the lives he ruined. The lives he took. 

Now was the time for Harry to bring life back to the wizarding world. Sure, he was an auror, but again he was more. He was a father, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get to meet his first born as soon as he could. 

During the last stretch he ran toward the peak. He didn’t need magic to make magic happen. He would deal with that bloody awful poltergeist now if it knocked every oxygen molecule out of his lungs, and damn it he’d dash down the bloody slope twice as fast. Ron had a hard time keeping up with him, but nevertheless they had made it to the peak. He had half a mind to reprimand his friend. His knees could only take so much, after all. 

That was, until he was distracted by the most unnerving sight he could possibly behold. Well, aside from spiders, anyway. 

“Bloody hell, Harry. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” 

“I-I guh-” He could have fainted on the spot, because there was Ginny clear as day on the ground screaming as she gave birth. Both of them paled, looked at each other, and nodded. They were thinking the same thing, despite being quite ready to run around in circles panicking. 

“RIDDIKULUS!” they both shouted, pointing their wands at the boggart. Good thing magic was usable at the peak, or else they’d both be a bloody mess. Ron held the boggart in the form of Ginny tap dancing in an apron while Harry scouted the grounds for something to contain the boggart. Eventually he came across an old crate, and he and Ron sealed it inside. 

“Another damned boggart, was it?” said Ms. Willow, the mole on her many chins rippling with her speech. “Third one this month. Not quite sure where they all come from.” 

“Well, all’s well that ends well. Problem solved,” said Harry, handing her the crate. As long as the seal kept she would be just fine, especially considering that she wasn’t a bad magician. Who else would have placed all of the magic barriers around the mountain? Of course the ministry might not be too happy to see them return without a detained poltergeist, but Harry really couldn’t care less at that point. 

He and Ron didn’t mean to be rude, but the two of them sprinted down the mountain without so much as a goodbye. Ginny and the baby were waiting for them. 

END


End file.
